When my oldest son was nine years old, he made a shocking declaration. In the middle of a conversation he looked at me and calmly stated “Mommy, I don’t think I’m a Christian.” Needless to say, I was confused. For the entirety of his life we had actively participated in church. I had so many things I wanted to say and ask; but instead, I simply asked, “Why not?” His answer was quite sophisticated, “Well, being a Christian means being like Jesus and I don’t think I can do that.

Middle school was the hardest. An awkward three years of having only a small group of friends and often being teased or bullied by older students. I was a spindly-limbed introvert who just wanted to go unnoticed. Now in my 40s, I recall those days clearly—and yet I made my peace with those difficult times long ago. Let me explain how…